


dream

by orphan_account



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Incest, M/M, i can't believe i wrote incest... how the tables have tabled, slight emetophobia for the first half
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: something's up with yuuta





	

**Author's Note:**

> ...I think I overplayed how grossed-out yuuta would be about wanting his own bro to fuck him but is okay ^p^)9 I like flustered aoi-kun bros jerking off to each other and then being so ashamed
> 
> Hinata-kun has totally touched himself while thinking of yuuta and then been like waaaaaaaaait no no no

  
  
_ Rain patters against the windows softly, drumming a gentle rhythm in time with each glance Yuuta throws to the closed door. He’s reading a book for a school assignment, but after a good 10 minutes, he realizes that he’s read the same line around thirty times over and still has no idea what it says. Hinata’s late—something to do with a prank, maybe, or schoolwork, Yuuta tells himself—, but Hinata usually tells him where he’ll be, and in the few cases he doesn’t, Yuuta just knows what he’s doing. This time, though, Yuuta has no idea, and the feeling of being totally in the dark with anything related to his twin brother is disconcerting.  _ __   
__   
_ He’s probably with that guy from Ryuseitai, the guy with the red streaks in his hair and the masculinity complex, Yuuta reasons, and ignores how that thought settles in his stomach, burning white-hot with something that he’s just going to ignore for now. Hinata’s probably walking home in the rain right now. He definitely doesn’t have his umbrella, though, because he always forgets and bums one off Yuuta. He’s probably dripping wet and regretting all the terrible, terrible life choices that led up to this, and Yuuta will laugh in his face as he walks in the door. _ __   
  


_ With that thought, the door swings open. _ __   
_   
_ __ “Aniki,” he greets, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably as his eyes roam over Hinata’s soaked figure, the way water beads and drips down from his tied hair and how the undershirt of his school uniform clings to his body. Yuuta forces himself to tear his gaze away, looking up at Hinata with an expression he hopes is an appropriate mix of smug and annoyed. All the words that he opens his mouth to say catch in his throat, though, at Hinata’s expression: he’s staring at Yuuta with a faraway look in his eyes, something desperate pulling his expression tight.

 

_ He looks like he’s going to eat me, Yuuta thinks. _

 

_ It’s the last thought he forms before Hinata suddenly has his wrists in an iron grip, straddling Yuuta and looking down at him with an expression that makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. _

 

_ “You’re wet,” he says stupidly, and immediately feels like slapping himself. It’s the position they’re in, the almost-manic look in Hinata’s eyes that makes his heart race in his chest and derails any coherent thought or statement he tries to form. He hates himself for it, because this is probably—definitely—a prank, and he’s the one who’s perverting this, twisting this because he wants Hinata so badly to—to… _

 

_ “Yeah,” Hinata breathes, voice caught between an exhale and a laugh, the faintest hint of a wry smile pulling at his lips. It makes relief curl in Yuuta’s chest along with the tiniest hint of disappointment at the brief hint of Hinata’s usual humor, but both are short-lived when Hinata’s expression drops back into an unreadable one. Hinata is close, way, way too close, and then there’s something pressing against his lips. _

 

_ Every thought process in Yuuta’s mind fizzles, and no sooner than Yuuta has even begun processing what happened does Hinata lick into Yuuta’s mouth, tongue tangling with Yuuta’s needily. The wet sound of it mixes with the sound of their pants and blocks out any other sensation from being processed in Yuuta’s mind, Hinata, Hinata, Hinata filling every inch of his brain. Yuuta’s hand comes to grip Hinata’s hair, but stops just short of pulling Hinata off. He could. He should. He needs to pull Hinata away, to demand to know what the hell he’s doing, they’re brothers, this is wrong wrong  _ **_wrong_ ** _ , but everything in Yuuta is aching with how much he needs this, how much he doesn’t want this to stop. _

 

_ His hand relaxes, threads through Hinata’s hair and fumbles the hair tie off before pulling Hinata closer. Hinata hums, a low sound that shivers through every fiber of Yuuta’s body and urges him to deepen the kiss. Yuuta barely notices the pressure at his wrists lift. There are ice-cold hands slipping under Yuuta’s shirt and tracing his chest like Hinata has it all memorized by heart; Yuuta breaks away, gasping, but Hinata pulls him back into the kiss as if he can’t bear to be apart for the briefest of moments. Yuuta understands, though, feels every muscle in his body drawn tight with the need to be as close as possible to his brother, and after a second, he mirrors Hinata and presses his hands to Hinata’s chest. _

 

_ “Aniki,” Yuuta whimpers, grasping for anything else to say and coming up empty. He’s not prepared for Hinata’s hands to roll over his nipples, crying out into the quiet room and quickly clamping one of his hands over his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep it all in. He’s hard, he knows he’s hard, and he tries to press his thighs together so Hinata can’t tell, can’t accidentally brush against Yuuta and make him actually lose the last tiny scraps of self-control he has. _

 

_ “Yuuta-kun...” There’s a note of desperation in his voice that has Yuuta fighting down the impulse to beg Hinata to fuck him until he can’t move, settling with biting his lips to try to muffle the broken whine that follows. Hinata draws back, then, and Yuuta’s eyes follow the strand of saliva connecting them until it breaks. He can feel Hinata’s breath ghost over his neck, lets his eyes flutter closed, only to have them jerk open when he feels his legs being forced open. _ __   
_   
_ __ “Aniki..?! Wait—...”

 

_ “I can’t wait,” Hinata murmurs, tugging Yuuta’s pants and waistband down with one swift motion (when did he undo Yuuta’s belt?), hands tracing the inside of Yuuta’s thighs, just avoiding the place Yuuta desperately wants him to touch. The last vestiges of shame are leaving Yuuta, now; he stops thinking about how embarrassing this position is, arching up into Hinata’s hands with a needy whine and throwing his head back against the sheets. He barely hears the clatter of Hinata’s belt over the sound of his own breathing, rough even to his own ears and in perfect time with his brother’s. Yuuta’s hands grasp desperately at the sheets, and just as the tension is too much to bear, he feels red-hot heat press against his cock, a hand wrapping around both of them and stroking with a hopeless rhythm. _

 

_ Hinata uses his free hand to swipe away the hair hanging low in his face, pace slowing just as Yuuta is so, so tantalizingly close to the edge. Yuuta can see his eyes, glazed over with want, labored breaths tearing their way out of his throat, the flush rising high on his face, and he doesn’t need a mirror to tell that his own expression is exactly the same. _

 

_ “Yuuta.” _

 

_ And with that— _

 

—

 

Yuuta bolts upright in his bed, heart hammering in his chest and so hard it aches. His next thoughts go a little something like this:

 

fuck

 

_ fuck _

_ _

**fuck**

 

fuck

 

**_FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ **

 

He doesn’t have the time to parse the disgust and arousal rising in his chest, though, because the next realization that follows  _ I had a wet dream about my own brother _ is  _ I could’ve woken him up, he could know, he could have left _ , and Yuuta has to fight down the urge to throw up, descending the ladder of their bunk bed as quietly as he can with shaking legs.

 

The relief he feels at seeing Hinata still in his bed and fast asleep has Yuuta’s legs threatening to give way from underneath him, and he grabs one of the bedposts to keep himself upright. Hinata’s face is slightly flushed, soft breath filtering through his lips, face relaxed and the tiniest patch of skin peeking out from under his pajamas and  _ oh god, stop, he’s your brother, don’t look at him like this! _ Another wave of nausea is back, full force, and Yuuta registers his hands are gripping the bedpost so hard his knuckles are turning white a few seconds too late. He feels an almost-disconnect from reality as he toes into his slippers and shuffles out of their bedroom silently, gait wobbly as he makes his way to the bathroom.

 

It’s only once he’s safely inside with the door closed and lights on does everything really, really sink in for Yuuta, and he collapses against the sink like a doll with its strings cut. Every tiny part of that dream insists on replaying in his mind, burning into the far reaches of his memory and refusing to let him forget.

 

He really does end up puking, barely making it to the toilet before he starts heaving. Yuuta’s still hard, too, something he’d almost find funny if it wasn’t because the image of Hinata sleeping peacefully keeps surfacing, along with fragments of memories of Hinata that are now colored by Yuuta’s—his  _ attraction _ to him, god, he wants to fuck his  _ own brother _ , his  _ twin _ . He forces himself to lean against the wall, take a deep breath. Tries to convince himself that this happens to everyone, it’s not a big deal, but it doesn’t work, because this isn’t a one-time thing. It’s the culmination of every single repressed feeling and impulse he’s had, crashing over him in one horrible, unavoidable realization on—he checks his phone—3:02 AM on a school night. His lockscreen is a picture of Hinata and Yuuta with their arms around each other’s shoulders.

 

Yuuta tosses his phone across the bathroom floor and buries his head in his arms.

 

He’s still hard, too. Half of him is screaming with disgust at the very idea of  _ jerking off to Hinata _ , while half of him is begging for release. He can’t; he doesn’t want to, with the feeling that if he does, he’ll make this all real, but the need pooling in his gut is too overwhelming. Maybe if Hinata were the one in this situation, he’d be stronger, but Yuuta isn’t.

 

He comes with a strangled groan and the image of Hinata towering over him dancing in his mind.

 

Not a moment too soon, apparently, because there’s a knock at the door, and the hollow pleasure is replaced with panic.

 

“Yuuta-kun? Are you okay?”

 

_ God, he must’ve heard me throwing up in here, what else did he hear _ —“I...I’m fine, Aniki.” Yuuta forces himself to his feet, pulling up his underwear and pants and trying not to look like someone who just jerked it to his twin brother when he pulls open the door, because, as much as he wants to hide and lock himself in the bathroom forever, he also knows that Hinata won’t leave unless he knows Yuuta’s okay. The minute he opens the door to be greeted with Hinata, any semblance of composure he had completely abandons him.

 

“Is something wrong? I thought I heard you throwing up,” Hinata says, face full of concern. Yuuta wobbles and holds onto the edge of the doorway to steady himself, weak-kneed for multiple reasons. 

 

“I’m fine,” Yuuta chokes out, trying to brush past Hinata.

 

“You’re obviously not fine! Are you sick? Did something happen?” Yuuta hates himself for worrying Hinata, feels like at any moment, Hinata will see right through him like he always does and call him disgusting, kick him out of the house, disband their unit—

 

“I’m fine!” Immediately after he says it, Yuuta realizes he’s overcompensated in trying to cover the panic in his voice with anger, but he can’t take the words back. He focuses his gaze on the floor, avoiding looking at Hinata because he  _ knows _ what his expression looks like: shocked, confused, hurt, and Yuuta just can’t handle any of this right now.

 

“‘m just not feeling well. I’m going back to bed,” he mutters, making his way to their bedroom as quickly as possible.

 

Maybe he’ll forget all about this tomorrow with a good night’s rest.

 

_ — _

 

He does not forget, and so: the next few days at school are hell.

 

Everything Hinata does starts to set Yuuta on edge; he can’t look Hinata in the eyes anymore, can’t watch him eat food, scrabbles back and bangs his head when Hinata grabs his arm to tell him something, even feels his nerves crackle with nervous tension when Hinata sits next to him on the train. Hinata isn’t stupid, either, especially when it comes to Yuuta, and he knows something’s wrong, is giving off waves of concern and approachable you-can-talk-to-nii-chan-signals. He’s holding back, though, giving Yuuta his space, and Yuuta hates seeing Hinata acting so cautious around him. He wants to grab Hinata, tell him that it’s not his fault, it’s never his fault, really, but the prospect of explaining what’s actually wrong makes Yuuta woozy with terror.

 

“If you’re feeling sick, you can stay home, you know that,” Hinata says one day, as they’re walking home from club practice.

 

“We have a performance coming up. Besides, I feel fine.” Yuuta doesn’t need to look at Hinata to tell that his expression is a mix of doubt and concern, so he doesn’t, opting to stare at his shoes as they walk. 

 

“Did someone do something to you?” Hinata asks after practice as they rest against the wall—5 feet apart—, and though his tone is purposefully measured and light, there’s a twist of something darker, possessive, even, in his tone, sending heat coiling low at the base of Yuuta’s spine and has him suppressing a shiver.

 

“Nobody’s harassing me, Aniki. I’m fine.” His hands twitch from where they’re resting on the linoleum floor, aching with the impulse to give Hinata a playful shove, a hug, even to grab Hinata’s hand: something, anything to reassure Hinata. There’s the tiniest of movements towards Hinata, but his hand drops soon after. He’s not looking Yuuta’s way, anyways.

 

It gets easier, though, as the week goes on; being in different classes means they spend the majority of the school day apart, and during unit practice, Yuuta’s usually able to convince the 1st years from Ryuseitai or Switch to practice with them, and even organizes something vaguely resembling a joint practice session with Knights using all the rapport he has with Sena-senpai and Tsukasa. 

 

Of course, they’re rapidly falling out of sync. Oogami-senpai describes their playing as sounding like ‘a banshee with strep throat fucking a hyena’, which prompts a very awkward conversation about what Koga consumes for entertainment in his free time, but doesn’t really change that, yes, they do sound like a banshee with strep throat fucking a hyena. He doesn’t want to think about fucking, though, especially with Hinata in the same room, and the fact that he can’t stop his thoughts from wandering like this just makes him feel even worse. The next time they start playing again, Hinata ends up one measure ahead of Rei and Koga, with Yuuta one behind.

 

Rei stops Yuuta at the door after practice. “Things can’t go on like this,” he says, and Yuuta doesn’t even bother questioning if or how he knows what’s going on. Rei is their watchful guardian, and it definitely seems fitting that he’s a bit more open-minded than most.

 

“I’m scared,” Yuuta confesses, eyes searching Rei’s expression like it holds all the answers he needs.

 

“It’s no easy task. But I doubt Hinata-kun will abandon you. We both know how much he treasures you.”

 

“Yeah, but not like that! We’re family! I don’t want him to force himself to make me feel better, or—or…” He’s crying, Yuuta’s actually crying, and he hurriedly wipes his eyes with his sleeves even though he knows there’s no point. “He’s the only family I have.”

 

“Leaving him in the dark is arguably causing him more anguish. It leaves the mind prone to imagining, and I’m rather sure he’s desperate to uncover the reason you’re upset.”

 

There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Have more faith in each other.”

 

The door clicks shut.

 

—

_   
_ _... “Aniki—!” He gasps, scrabbling at Hinata’s thighs, back, arms for any semblance of leverage, something to ground him against the pleasure that’s sweeping over him in waves. “Wait, I—” _

 

_ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t,” Hinata groans, voice sounding from deep in his throat, and the sound of it goes straight to Yuuta’s cock. He barely registers that his thighs are bruising with how tightly Hinata is holding onto them; the thought of Hinata leaving marks makes him pant, a sudden possessive impulse flaring deep in his gut. _

 

_ “Aniki, harder—please,” he begs, and is rewarded when Hinata slams into him so hard he actually sees stars. Yuuta’s completely helpless now; his arms are wrapped around Hinata’s back like he’s a lifeline, drool leaking a little out of the corners of his mouth, because he can’t focus on anything but Hinata and how full he is of him. It takes every last bit of Yuuta’s willpower to keep his eyes open so he can watch Hinata’s expression, how his hair hangs into his face, how his eyes are fuzzy with desire. It makes Yuuta’s heart pound desperately in his chest, and he swears he can hear Hinata’s beat in perfect sync with his own. _

 

_ “Yuuta-kun—... Yuuta-kun!” _

 

“Yuuta-kun!”

 

Yuuta’s head jerks up from his desk to be greeted by probably the last person he wants to see right now. It’s his fault, he knows, for falling asleep at school—he’s been sleeping in class lately because it’s near-impossible for him to fall asleep at home. Everything smells like Hinata, reminds him of Hinata, and when he tries to settle down to sleep, his mind pieces together scenes that make him ache with clashing arousal and repulsion the minute he closes his eyes, and he spends the rest of the night drifting in and out of fitful sleep.

 

“C’mon, let’s go practice. Are you feeling okay?”

 

Hinata grins down at him, tugging Yuuta up to his feet. He can tell the smile’s forced, though it’d be too subtle for anyone else to pick up, but he’s not going to call him out on it and end up having to explain  _ why _ he’s been acting so weird around Hinata lately. Or making a break for it, but neither alternative is exactly appealing (Hinata is faster than him).

 

“Practice? Alone?”

 

“Yeah. Just the two of us,” Hinata says, smoothing his hair back with one hand and clipping it back with the other in a way that shouldn’t be hot but it is, fuck, and Yuuta’s probably still hard too. He glances down. He is, and definitely harder than he was a few moments ago. Yuuta drags in a deep breath, lets himself be tugged towards the door.

 

“Aniki?”

 

Hinata pauses at the doorway, turning and looking at Yuuta curiously. “What’s up?”

 

_ I love you way more than siblings normally do. I’ve jerked off to you at least three times this week. You’re the reason for my sexual awakening. Literally everything you do turns me on, and I want you to fuck me so badly, and the only way I can fix things is if— _

 

“I’m moving to Cuba.”

 

Hinata makes a noise that’s halfway between a snort and a sigh of relief. “I heard it’s pretty nice this time of year,” he says conversationally, back to leading Yuuta towards the practice room. “We should move to America, though. We could perform in New York! We’d have to change the name, though, since I feel like ‘2wink’ wouldn’t really fly over there…”

 

Yuuta has a very, very bad feeling about this.

 

—

 

Practice is.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

In theory, practicing alone should be better, since they can focus on each other’s movements and help each other improve. The problem is that ‘in theory’, Yuuta doesn’t want to fuck his unitmate—his brother—, but in practice, it’s a bit of a different story.

 

Instead of staring literally anywhere else but Hinata’s general direction, Yuuta starts staring at  _ only  _ Hinata instead of focusing on dancing, which is a terrible, terrible move, since Hinata’s outfit shows off his arms and collarbone and a tantalizing sliver of his stomach when he’s doing a particularly animated dance move. The way he looks when he’s practicing: breathing hard, hair tied back in a messy ponytail, face red and then Yuuta is tripping over a potted plant—the potted plant that has been there for six months—because his brain and body seem to be conspiring to sabotage Yuuta in every way possible.

 

“Okay, is there something…?” Hinata asks during a break, gesturing to his face with a quizzical look. “You’ve been staring at me.”

 

“Yeah. Your face,” Yuuta replies absentmindedly. The regret doesn’t take long to sink in, though, and he hurriedly stands up from where he’d been resting on the floor to explain. Thankfully, Hinata seems to interpret it as an insult, and he gives Yuuta an exaggerated pout.

 

“Hey, you can’t insult my face. We’re twins! We have the exact same face, in case you haven’t noticed.” 

 

Yes.

 

Yuuta knows they’re twins.

 

**_So why does he want to fuck Hinata?????_ **

 

“Let’s start practicing again,” Yuuta says hurriedly, even though he’s feeling way too dizzy and sleep-deprived to be doing anything but lying on the floor for another half-hour at least.  _ Focus,  _ he tells himself. He can’t let himself drag Hinata down, after all.

 

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good… How much sleep did you get last night?”

 

Last night. Four hours, maybe, because last night had involved a very colorful dream involving sucking off the latest star of Yuuta’s dreams and/or nightmares.

 

“Eight hours,” he lies.

 

“If you’re sure…” Hinata says, walking up to Yuuta and zipping up the collar of his uniform before Yuuta has a chance to pull away and do it himself.

 

Just another hour and a half of practice.

 

Easy.

 

Yuuta Aoi can do this.

 

—

 

When he wakes up back at home, Yuuta Aoi realizes that maybe he can’t do this after all. 

 

It takes him to remember what happened: he pushed himself too hard and passed out about an hour into practice, he thinks. But he should be in the infirmary, then, not at home in Hinata’s bed, unless—

 

“Aniki? Did you carry me here?”

 

Hinata’s lying next to him, but he’s not sleeping. The fear and stress on his face makes Yuuta’s stomach twist with guilt, but when he tries to push himself up into a sitting position so he can get back up into his own bed, talk,  _ something _ , Hinata gently pushes him back down.

 

“The infirmary was closed, so I didn’t really have a choice.” The thought of Hinata struggling to carry him home, already exhausted from practice, settles uncomfortably in Yuuta’s chest.

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hinata says, voice soft. “But this means you really are sick or something, right? Please—just tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Nothing’s wr—”

 

“ _ Something’s _ wrong! I was so scared when you fainted, I thought you wouldn’t wake up, I felt like I was going to…” Hinata seems to realize how loud his voice has become, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Did I do something to make you act this way? So that you don’t even feel safe sleeping in the same room as me? Just tell me, please, and I’ll do anything to fix it.”

 

Hinata is leaning over him, hands caging Yuuta in. The pleading look in his eyes makes Yuuta’s heart freeze in his chest, brings him too close to telling Hinata everything, but he can’t. Not when he knows that pleading look could just as easily turn to disgust and shock.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

 

Hinata stares at him for what seems like an eternity before finally drawing back, but the position he shifts into is even worse; he swings his legs over so that he’s straddling Yuuta, hands pressing into his shoulders uncertainly.

 

“A couple of nights ago… I woke up and I kinda heard you talking in your sleep.”

 

Yuuta feels his heart drop to his stomach.

 

“You were saying my name, and the way you said it just—... It made me feel weird, okay?” Hinata runs a hand through his hair sheepishly, eyes cast away from Yuuta.  _ ‘Weird’ _ .

“I’ve been feeling frustrated over you for a while now, and I wasn’t thinking when I touched myself, it felt really good but I swear I won’t do it again, I’m so, so, sorry, I know it’s gross to do that kind of thing while thinking about you, I just—”

 

“You  _ what? _ ”

 

Hinata freezes, eyes widening with dismay. “Wait, that’s not what this is about? You didn’t hear me that night?”

 

“No, I didn’t… Aniki—”

 

Hinata scrabbles to the edge of the bed so fast he falls over the edge. Yuuta catches him by the wrists just in time, yanking him up and sending them tumbling back onto the bed to rest in a tangled heap. Babbling frantically, Hinata scrambles to try to get away and only succeeds in tangling them more, perfect coordination seemingly having abandoned him.

 

“Shit, Yuuta—uh, Yuuta-kun, I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I’ll… I’ll sleep on the kitchen floor for the rest of the year, okay—”

 

“—Aniki—”

 

“—Or strip down to my underwear in front of the whole school, I won’t get within 20 feet of you, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you—”

 

“—Aniki—”

 

“—I’ll buy you anything you want for the rest of your life, I’ll take three different jobs at three different McDonald’s, even if their fries have kinda gone downhill—”

 

“—I want you to fuck me.”

 

“...Buh?” The satisfaction at getting Hinata to stop babbling is mixing dangerously with the lingering shock and the tiniest glimmer of hope in his chest, which is maybe why Yuuta can’t seem to stop words from tumbling out of his mouth.

 

“I was dreaming about you doing stuff to me this whole week. That’s why I was saying your name in my sleep, and that’s why I was acting weird around you and stumbling around; I couldn’t get any sleep because I kept dreaming about you. I’m sorry. For making you worry. I just didn’t want to make things weird, and I know it’s kinda gross, I...”

  
  
  


Yuuta doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as all his words are muffled when Hinata gives him a hug so tight it aches, burying his head into Yuuta’s shoulder.

 

“Are you kidding? I’ve thought of you  _ like that _ since my first year of middle school, I’ve wanted you for so long, sometimes I even have to go to the bathroom during class because I keep thinking of you,” Hinata says, like he can’t get the words out fast enough. Yuuta’s sense of shame is definitely back now, though, and he can feel his face heat as his mind takes the idea of Hinata touching himself to Yuuta in the bathroom and conjures up a  _ very _ pleasing image.

 

“You’re so weird, Aniki,” Yuuta grumbles, squishing Hinata’s cheeks between his hands, but there’s no bite behind his words, and they both know it.

 

Something shifts in the atmosphere after a few moments. Yuuta retracts his hands, fiddles with the creases in the sheets, because something in Hinata’s eyes makes Yuuta think he knows what he’s going to say next.

 

“Yuuta-kun,” Hinata starts, licking his lips. “Can I…”

 

Yuuta swallows, exhaling a shaky breath. Okay. He can do this. “Do you have condoms and… stuff?”

 

“I was actually just going to ask to kiss you, but that works too. And I have lube and condoms,” he adds at Yuuta’s indignant glare. “I mean, Sakuma-senpai gave them to me. I didn’t ask or anything, he just shoved it in my bag—I didn’t plan for this to happen, okay?”

 

“Aniki’s a perv,” Yuuta breathes, wrapping his arms around Hinata’s neck and pulling him closer. “How am I supposed to believe that when I know you’ve been fantasizing about doing stuff with me, huh?”  _ Two can play at this game _ .

 

Hinata whines deep in his throat, dragging a hand through his hair. “Nnnh, Yuuta-kun, that’s not fair, you’re going to make me want to do it right now…”

 

“You can do it. Besides, you’re already hard,” Yuuta points out, rubbing up against Hinata’s crotch with his knee in emphasis.

 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself once I get started. Are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Do you get all your lines from bad manga? Just fuck me alrea—”

 

The ending of Yuuta’s sentence is left unfinished, because Hinata lunges forward and kisses him, and there really is no preparing for something like this; electricity arcs up his spine at the way Hinata’s teeth catch on his bottom lip and the way he traces the seam of Yuuta’s mouth as if asking permission, barely registering the hands working at the buttons of Yuuta’s uniform.

Hinata is definitely hard now. Yuuta can feel it with every tiny shift, and the thought of  _ him _ making Hinata like this is starting to make him hard too. They both groan in unison when Yuuta cants his hips up, Hinata taking the chance to press his tongue into Yuuta’s mouth. The way their tongues tangle together is way, way too hot, and Yuuta honestly thinks he might cum from this alone. A few moments later, Hinata pulls back, having almost completely taken off the Yuuta’s shirt and blazer without him registering it. 

 

“Aniki,” Yuuta starts, breath hitching as Hinata’s lips press feather-soft against his neck. “You can’t leave marks, people are gonna see.”

 

Hinata hums in reply, teeth purposefully scraping across the delicate skin. “I kinda want everyone to see. It’s hot, you know? People knowing that you’re off-limits.” The thought of someone seeing the hickeys on Yuuta’s neck, even connecting it to Hinata, is making him harder, actually, though he wants to keep this a secret between the two of them. Yuuta bares his neck to give Hinata access, breathing out a soft sigh and letting his eyes flutter shut.

 

He has to bite back the urge to keen when Hinata starts sucking, hands tracing every inch of Yuuta’s chest with deliberate slowness. His hands dip tantalizingly close to the place Yuuta wants him to touch, but veer away at the last moment. Hinata can probably tell when Yuuta arches up needily, trying to press more into his hands to sate the growing ache in the pit of his stomach— _ definitely _ can tell, judging by the smirk he feels against his skin.

 

“That’s enough. We’re going to be performing soon…”

 

“Right, right,” Hinata says, drawing back. “Don’t want people to think you got ravaged by a sex monster or anything.”

 

“Describe yourself as a sex monster again and I’ll kick you in the nuts.” Yuuta nudges Hinata with his knee in emphasis.

 

Hinata assumes a scandalized look. “Who taught you to speak like that?” he murmurs, hands slipping under Yuuta’s waistband, drawing feather-light touches on the base of his cock. “Besides, if you kick me in the balls, how am I going to fuck you?”

 

“Aniki really needs to work on his dirty talk. This is why you’re still a virgin. I don’t need y—nnhh—...need you to fuck me, anyways.”

 

Yuuta almost sobs in relief when Hinata touches him for real, thumb smearing precum up his length. “Yuuta-kun. I really, really need to be inside of you  _ right now _ , I’m so hard it actually hurts.” Hinata says, voice strung tight with want, and something about the way it rings in Yuuta’s ears—the way it sounds so close to his own, maybe—makes something in Yuuta click.

 

“...Please. Do it, hurry up, onii-chan…”

_ Onii-chan. _ Yuuta’s fighting dirty, he knows he is, but Hinata gets the things Sakuma-senpai gave him (in his bag, resting near the opposite wall) so fast he trips over himself a little bit, shrugging off his blazer and unbuttoning (read: ripping off) half the buttons of his shirt in the process. He likes Hinata like this, hungry and desperate. Some little part of Yuuta, deep inside him, wants to make Hinata lose control completely, wants him to pin Yuuta down and fuck him until he can’t move, use him as he sees fit.

 

He can’t help sighing gently when Hinata climbs back onto the bed, tossing his shirt to the side. “Let me take care of you, okay?” Hinata says, thumb swiping over Yuuta’s cheek. It’d be nice for Hinata to snap, to just cram Yuuta full, full, but he can’t say he minds Hinata being gentle like this, the way he looks down at Yuuta like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

 

Hinata’s fingers hook under Yuuta’s waistband. Before he can react, his pants and underwear are being tugged down in one swift motion, exposing him to the cool air. “Aniki,” Yuuta starts, watching Hinata coat his fingers with entirely too much lube with growing apprehension (and a little thrill of excitement). “I can do it by myself, you really don’t have to…”

 

“I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? Besides, I’ve done some research, and—” Whatever just sent shivers running up his spine must show on Yuuta’s face, because Hinata cuts himself off, looking panicked. “—No, I mean, I didn’t do  _ that  _ kind of research. I’ve just been looking stuff up, I swear.”

 

“You’ve been looking up stuff so you could fuck me better? You’re such a pervert, Aniki.”

 

Hinata scratches at the back of his head sheepishly. “I figured we’d be sensitive in the same places, so I… tried some stuff out on myself.”

 

Imagining Hinata touching himself to try to figure out how to make Yuuta good is maybe the hottest thing he could imagine, and, by some miracle, he actually gets harder. “You know what, you can do it, just—just hurry, I…”

 

“Yeah.” Hinata glances up, as if making sure it’s okay, then presses a finger in.    
  
Even though Yuuta prepared himself for the sensation, the feeling of something foreign pressing inside him combined with the cold draws out a startled hiss. “I know, it always feels weird at first,” Hinata says soothingly, moving his finger carefully. Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how they make it look so good in the few videos he’s watched more than a minute of, because it just feels weird to him.

 

“I’m gonna add another one, okay?” Yuuta nods, letting out a strangled breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The second finger doesn’t feel as weird as the first. Hinata is agonizingly slow, scissoring his fingers inside Yuuta and stretching him out as much as possible; while Yuuta knows that he should be thankful that Hinata is so thorough, it’s taking a lot to restrain himself from flipping Hinata over and just riding him. By the third finger, Yuuta is starting to get used to it, starts relaxing onto Hinata, and he even starts to think it doesn’t feel that bad. He opens his mouth to tell Hinata that he can take his fingers out now, but his voice turns into a high whine because at that moment, Hinata curls his fingers and hits  _ something _ inside him, sending electricity shivering up his spine.

 

“Aniki, what—”

 

“It feels better now, right?” Hinata murmurs, rubbing the place again and humming with satisfaction when Yuuta’s hips jerk. There’s white-hot heat pooling in Yuuta’s belly, and he scrabbles at Hinata’s back, trying to delay his orgasm, focus on anything but how amazing this feels—and then Hinata takes his fingers out, right as Yuuta’s on the brink of release.

 

Yuuta tries to stifle an indignant look and fails miserably, judging by how Hinata grins (smirks, really) down at him. “Just a little longer,” Hinata says, fumbling with the condom box.

 

Yuuta struggles to keep his voice even, finding it suddenly hard to think. “You don’t… have to wear it. Neither of us are getting pregnant, and we’re both virgins—don’t look at me like that, you were complaining about your non-existent sex life a few weeks ago—so there’s no point.” 

 

“There’s always a point to safe sex,” Hinata says sagely, regarding Yuuta as if he is a baby incapable of meaningful thought. “Besides, I might have crabs.”

 

“Do you even know what crabs  _ is? _ ”

 

“No.” 

 

Yuuta realizes he doesn’t know what crabs is either.

 

Hinata tosses the condom box aside anyways, shucking off his pants and giving Yuuta a full view of what will be going inside him. Fuck, it’s actually starting to sink in that they’re really, actually doing this; Yuuta shivers in anticipation, watching precum dribble down the tip, and his own cock twitches at the thought of Hinata being inside him.

 

“I’ll go slow,” Hinata promises, giving Yuuta one last stroke before gently lifting his hips.

 

He can’t hold back a strangled groan when Hinata first pushes inside of him; he’s not even all the way in, but it still feels so, so full. Hinata seems to realize what Yuuta wants when he fumbles around with his hand, lacing their hands together and squeezing tight. “Okay?” Hinata asks, peering at Yuuta through the hair falling in his face. He nods, and they both exhale in unison when Hinata pushes in further, all the way to the hilt. After a moment that seems to drag on, their eyes meet, and Hinata quirks a smile.

  
  


“...Okay, have I ever told you that you look really,  _ really _ hot? You drive me crazy,” Hinata breathes, looking at Yuuta with an expression so sincere his heart squeezes in his chest. “Maybe that’s weird, since we’re twins,” he mumbles, gaze dropping down to some vague spot on the sheets. “Does that make me a narcissist?”

 

“We’re twins and having sex,” Yuuta deadpans. “Being a narcissist is the least of your concerns.”

 

Hinata groans, hands dragging down his face. “Don’t say it like that,” he pleads. “It sounds so  _ weird _ .  _ Clinical _ . I’d describe it like—”   
  
“If you say  _ making love _ , I’m going to walk out of this room and never come back,” Yuuta threatens, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“I wasn’t going to!” Hinata protests. “Okay, maybe I was. Not really, though. It’s like, becoming one, you know? I feel complete, just. You know. Like this. With you.”

 

_ I know. I’ve wanted this forever. I feel like we’re meant to be connected like this, like we’re two halves of a whole, together again. I love you, I love you, I love you.  _ “That was so cheesy, Aniki.”

 

“Hey, shut up. I’m not exactly an expert at the whole fucking-your-twin thing,” Hinata intones, but the way he smiles at Yuuta is so tender it makes Yuuta want to kiss him senseless.

 

“Neither am I,” Yuuta replies. “I guess we’re the same.”

 

“We’re always the same,” he murmurs. “You’re not going to walk out of this room, are you?”

 

Hinata nuzzles into the crook of Yuuta’s neck, kissing gently around the marks he left. “I’ll think about it,” Yuuta breathes, gripping Hinata’s hand tighter, feeling the way Hinata smiles against his neck in reply.   
  
When Hinata starts moving, Yuuta’s only half-prepared; he screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side and breathing hard against the pillow. It feels good, but there’s something missing. “Aniki, Aniki, Hi—Hinata-kun,” he pants, trying to articulate what he wants but finding it near impossible to string words together. Hinata seems to slam into him harder at that, almost deliberately avoiding the one place Yuuta wants him to press against.

 

“What do you want? I won’t know until you tell me,” Hinata breathes, but Yuuta can tell his voice is strained. Fucking Aniki, with his lines straight out of a bad porno and yet somehow  _ still  _ ridiculously hot when he says them.

 

“That place—back when you were touching me—... Hinata-kun, please, Hinata-kun,” Yuuta babbles, pulling Hinata as close as he can. Hinata obliges, finally, and Yuuta sobs in relief at the pleasure that surges through him in waves, using the last of his strength to drag Hinata into a sloppy kiss that’s more about being as close to him as physically possible than anything else. He’s close now, and he can tell Hinata is too, feels the heat pooling in his belly on the edge of overflowing.

 

“I love you,” one of them gasps out—he can’t tell who’s speaking anymore, all he knows is the two of them, tangled together— “I love you too,”

 

and the coil of heat snaps in both of them; Yuuta can feel heat spreading inside of him, his own release spilled across both of their stomachs. Hinata sags and collapses against him, breathing hard and still clutching onto Yuuta’s hand.

 

“Aniki…” Yuuta murmurs, voice soft with fatigue.

 

“I know. Get some rest,” Hinata whispers, and his tone is so tender Yuuta can’t help but smile against his shoulder, already drifting off.

 

The last thing he registers is Hinata squeezing his hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in eight hours without proofreading so I'm sorry if there are any formatting errors or it's just generally bad, although there's not much I can do about the second part ┌（´・ω・｀ ┐）┐


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